


Our Ways Part and Intertwine

by navaan



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Episode: The Day of the Doctor, Episode: s01e13 The Parting of the Ways, First Meetings, Gen, Missing Scene, Regeneration, Sentient TARDIS, Timey-Wimey
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-06
Updated: 2020-12-06
Packaged: 2021-03-09 21:36:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,359
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27923146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/navaan/pseuds/navaan
Summary: Rose looks into the heart of the Tardis to save the Doctor and the universe, the Bad Wolf looks further - to future and past. And an old man tired of War finds a moment of kindness.
Relationships: The Doctor (Doctor Who) & Rose Tyler, The War Doctor & Rose Tyler, The War Doctor & The Doctor's TARDIS
Comments: 2
Kudos: 16
Collections: Public Call - Doctor Who fic exchange 2020





	Our Ways Part and Intertwine

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Merfilly](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Merfilly/gifts).



She looks into the heart of the Tardis and the Tardis looks back. The energy is consuming her mind until all thought is gone and all that’s left is a song, the music of the spheres, of time and space and the little pockets of inbetween and neverwhere, of perhaps and should have been. Rose Tyler is gone, and here, and everywhere.

She’s the Bad Wolf.

She creates herself. 

Cats her gaze across time.

And tied as she is to the Tardis who cast her lot with the thief she stole the Bad Wolf cast her gaze towards the Doctor.

For that moment in time that is always and every time she _sees_.

It’s her Doctor fighting a losing battle against Daleks, sending her home with the Tardis. “Have a fantastic life, Rose,” the voice echoes in her ears, her mind, her consciousness that’s a galaxy. 

She leaves her name for him to find, guiding him, guiding herself towards this moment. 

But there’s a lot more she sees.

She understands what this is the fight he picked, why this is a fight he wants her to stay away from. 

The Tardis whispers: _He lost this war before. He can’t ever forget what he did to stop Daleks and Time Lords alike._

Rose, not the Bad Wolf, sobs, for the first time understanding the depth of the burden and grief. She sees it scattered across different faces - the pain and anger, the grief and self-loathing. 

Skinny man in a pinstriped suit with a piercing gaze.

 _His eyes can twinkle like the stars when he smiles,_ Rose thinks into the rush of power that is Bad Wolf.

 _He’ll laugh for you. He’ll laugh with you_ , the Tardis whispers back. _It’s to be._

Just like that she sees the moment.

 _No more_ , the Doctor writes across the battlefields in ange, ready to end it all.

She sees the moment, knows all there is to know about Rose, the Doctor, the world, the names that will come after her, that have come before her, the friends he’ll find and lose, that have parted already.

Bad Wolf reaches out. But it’s Rose who grabs a hold of the Moment.

She’s going to help.

She’s going to be there.

As she’s going to be there, where her Doctor needs her.

Part of her takes shape on Gallifrey, more knowing than the human girl could ever have been and yet Rose - ready to tell him the same words he had told her: _Do this for me. Live a fantastic life._

The old man with the watery eyes and the wrinkled face looks at her, too knowing, too willing to end it all and it takes him a moment to understand that she’s the Moment, has always been the Moment, will be _his_ Moment because she’s always been.

* * * 

The Doctor leaves the museum with the impossible panting and feels the regeneration energy grab him. “It all makes sense,” he says and there’s nobody around anymore to hear it. Hadn’t there been others? Other hims? Other Doctors?

The Tardis hums at him, a sigh of comfort and shared sadness. 

_A new chapter_ , she hums. _Another story._

“No,” he says and he’s already forgetting it all, the clever idea a mind in three bodies had devised with the help of a glorious Bad Wolf girl whispering in his ear. He thinks of _her_ , _it_ , the Moment. “Not ready yet,” he says and the regenerations energy starts coiling and whirling unhappily inside of him. 

“It was a terrible life,” he gasps at the Tardis. Made for the war of wars he had forgotten one thing that he could only hope the Doctors after him - the new faces with their own ideas how to be the Doctor - would find a way to make their lives better, to live without cowardice and shake the cruelty, never forget but move forward. The golden energy engulfed his hands and he gnashed his teeth together hard enough to hurt, tears stinging his tired eyes.

The Tardis dropped out of space and time and he wobbled to the door, stumbled outside and found himself in an alley - London, 21st century, by the smell and taste of it.

It’s foreign and familiar. 

He’s been here countless times before and yet not in decades that were spent in raging flames of war.

“Are you all right?”

He startles. A young woman peeks into the alleyway from the main street.

Her eyes are bright shining blue and her hair is the color of gold. She has a wide mouth, covered in pink, sparkly lipstick that looks out of place only to him, old warrior that he is.

“I beg your pardon?” he asks, too tired, too shaken, fighting the familiar stings of oncoming death and regeneration.

“Are you all right? You look a bit shaky there.”

 _Seen her before_ , he thinks and the sliver of a memory of things he’ll forget and not remember until 400 years have passed is still hanging on enough to whisper, _It’s her; the Moment; Bad Wolf girl_.

He stares, transfixed and so tired and then throws a furtive glance over the shoulder at the Tardis and feels grateful. 

This is his Swan song and she’s giving him a glance of tomorrow.

“It’s nothing,” he says, “just a dizzy spell. Don’t mind this old man.”

“Are you sure?” the young woman asks. “You look like you’ve been through a bit of trouble.”

She’s young, so young and bright and in her innocence she has no idea how close she’s hitting to the full truth while missing it. She indicates his coat, that’s singed and dirty.

“Maybe,” he says, because he still doesn’t want this moment to end, “you can help me over to that bench.”

He indicates the bench he’s talking about.

She looks dubious for half a second then resolutely grabs him by the arm and walks him over like he’s an invalid. 

He is.

Might as well be.

He’s dying after all. Making way for something new.

“There,” she says. “Are you sure I can’t call anyone for you?”

He smiles and - how long has it been since he smiled like this? He had only rediscovered smiling today… “Thank you, young lady, that’s very kind of you. I’ll call someone in a moment. There’s someone who’ll pick me up.”

His grateful gaze falls on the Tardis who is humming contently in the alleyway, preparing herself for the inevitable change of her pilot.

“Anything else I can do for you?”

He shakes his head and smiles at the concerned creak in her brow. “I will be fine,” he says. “I’m always fine.”

“Tell you what,” she says. “I’m going to get some chips,” she says and points at the chippie across the street. “And if whoever picks you up hasn’t come by when I’m back out, we’ll share and I’ll wait with you.”

“Very kind but unnecessary,” he assures her.

“Done deal, sorry.” She grins and takes a step. “I’m Rose, by the way. Rose Tyler.”

Not Bad Wolf.

Just Rose.

“It’s good to meet you, Rose. Now be off, I’ll be picked up in a moment.”

She furrows her brow further, noticing that he hasn’t given her a name.

“See you around,” he whispers after her, as she vanishes to get some chips.

He’s tempted to sit here and wait for her to come back with the food.

When had been the last time he ate chips, all greasy and soaking in vinegar? Before the war. With another mouth…

He’s ready to go.

Ready to meet the world with a new-old him.

Ready to meet Rose.

Ready to forget her and meet her again.

He stumbles back to the Tardis. 

“Thank you,” he tells her and strokes a hand along the console and takes the Tardis away, back to the Vortex. “That was kind.” 

The memory is already slipping though as the glowing yellow light of regeneration swallows him and the Tardis screeches with him, as the fire takes and transforms him, as both of them reel with it, fighting, struggling, dying, ready to rise like the phoenix from too many ashes.


End file.
